His Dirty Linen
by Foul Fountain of Flies
Summary: Semi drabble. Kakashi gets jealous of women's clothing. KXI. One shot.


His Dirty Linen

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto and its characters.

Summary/synopsis: Semi-drabble. Kakashi gets jealous of women's clothing. KXI. One shot.

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Smile was absent from his face that day. Instead it was replaced by a wide-eyed, untoward bewilderment. Sense had altogether departed from the world. For all Hatake Kakashi knew, Icha Icha Paradise fell down on his feet, ignored, never to be picked up again.

There he saw Umino Iruka at his leisure. Clutched by the chuunin's hand was a hamper full of clothes. Women's clothing, faithfully delivered to Audrey's Laundromat. At the vulgar sight of it, the little color on Kakashi's countenance drained altogether. In his haste, Kakashi dashed forth across the street, bumping in to passersby without the merest notice. As he drew near enough Iruka, he espied him carefully placing the clothes inside the cleaning machine. It only did worse to restrain what Kakashi's biting suspicion could do. Amidst the heat and collective rumble of the engines, his eyes frowned as they never had. There was confusion mingled with despise on his expression; there were beads of jealous sweat rolling down his cheeks, soaking, as a result, his black mask of impenetrable secrecy.

He moved pell-mell forward Iruka out of distinct compulsion. He was as of yet unsure of how to proceed with question when, out of nowhere, his throat harpooned off the words:

"I didn't know you're the one who washes your girlfriend's clothes, Iruka." Sooner than it came out, a wish to handcuff himself and break his neck on a rock somewhere descended on Kakashi.

"Oh, Kakashi-sensei. I'm afraid I don't have a girlfriend to pamper." Iruka grinned.

Ha! What travesty all this was! What sugar-coated lies! When just a week ago Kakashi reassured himself that the chuunin was still unattached (and hoped so fervently that he remained so), a loner, a romantically helpless, live-alone, loveless hotshot, now he was telling a bare-faced lie in the face of an indefatigable evidence! It was despicable!

Iruka plunked down the basket, which he had just finished emptying on the washer. A good-humored smile hovered on his face, coveting, rather unconsciously, Kakashi's provoked affection.

Kakashi failed to return the smile. He felt himself cringing at what his doubt currently begot. His pupils expanded in reception of a most horrible thought: Did that mean that Iruka was a closet transvestite? Did he have fetish for such attire, putting them on at night as he admired his obscene reflection on the mirror? If so, wouldn't that make him deserve no less respect than a blatant, scantily clad drag queen? Sigh. He couldn't even begin to fathom what gratification could be gained by cross-dressing, much less imagine Iruka in drag. Surely, this was way beyond what the jounin's structure of mind could handle? Surely, he didn't admire a pervert? His insides brewed as he felt more and more susceptible to a kind of mind orgasm that'd deprive him of peace for as long as time pleased.

Iruka's curious stare at Kakashi, which was at once made apparent, lingered. It seemed to question Kakashi, to offer to guess the subject of the accomplished jounin's reverie. Then, as if putting the puzzle pieces together finally, Iruka went on,

"I don't wear them, either." Iruka said, reading in a blink the thoughts that ran on Kakashi's head. At which instant, Kakashi ceased at his sleepwalker behavior.

"Really?" Kakashi kept his mouth clipped, thinking what other alternative reason a man could have for washing women's clothes. If he could just make a truth out of any assumption he was then capable of, he would be very much obliged to leave Iruka at his domestic errands. But he couldn't no matter how hard he racked his brain. Hence, he wasn't leaving.

"Well, it seems like you really want to know. The thing is, Kakashi-sensei, I regularly purchase women's clothing so I'll have something with which to wipe the dust off my furniture. If I don't do that I tend to use the ones I wear. I'm daft when it comes to distinguishing dirty clothes from not, but not women's clothes from men's." Iruka finished calmly, his words not at all suggesting any more than they explicitly presented.

That is one fine point.

Senses blotted out of Kakashi once more, and his already-vulnerable nerves grated on and on. For once, he couldn't give a simple statement the serious thought it deserved. He walked away from Iruka, putting a decided and abrupt end to the encounter. How absurd things turned out to be at times. He ambled listlessly, abandoned by his faculties. Tomorrow, his senses would come back to him, though for now he would indulge himself on being partly insane, absorbing the enormity of a sudden mentality-shift.

The cause of all this distress being that he knew that he had just bared his heart and soul to Iruka. The treatment he gave the chuunin just now of course couldn't be otherwise construed as admiration, interest at the very least. Alas, he had prematurely committed himself to Iruka, and let the other know it not the less. How would Iruka react to him the next time they saw each other? Kakashi couldn't conciliate himself to the very thought, the suspense!

"On the bright side, he is still single." Kakashi whispered to himself. And that was supposed to be a bright side, somehow the information didn't make him want to jump and sing it aloud. "Oh let it rest awhile, goddamit. My life's enough of a mess." With these words, Kakashi walked homeward to further brood on the man of his dreams. He had wasted too much energy thinking of filthy thoughts. It wasn't worth it, nor fair to either him or Iruka.

END

A/N: I'm writing this in the middle of studying for my Psych class, hence the careless line-construction. It's retarded. Gads, I just needed a distraction so bad. I'm still a little boggled up in the head so yeah, sorry. But thanks for reading. 


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